


Cell Block Tango

by TheForgottenDreams (orphan_account)



Series: The Soundtrack To Our Lives [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Dancing and Singing, M/M, Mentions of Murder, Pining, random musical numbers, they're in a holding cell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 19:42:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4799885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TheForgottenDreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras loved his friends, he really did. He loved all their idiosyncrasies that made them who they were.<br/>But, like himself, they did have flaws.<br/>They were far too fond of random musicals number</p><p> </p><p>“No.” Enjolras simply stated. </p><p>“Gods, would it kill you to let go and have fun a little?” Grantaire asked. </p><p>“Yes.” Enjolras replied in a monosyllabic tone. </p><p>He sighed. “You literally have the easiest part! Marius has to do his in Hungarian. And let’s skip a few of this bit because it does go on.”</p><p>(Six of the Amis are in Holding after a rally goes wrong and naturally Courfeyrac has a song about it)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cell Block Tango

“These Holding bars are starting to look too familiar.” Grantaire sighed as he fell down onto the hard metal bench against the back wall of the cell. The cell was narrow, but long, just enough room for the six of them. 

“If they look familiar to you, imagine how they look to me.” Enjolras replied, he was sat next to Grantaire, his head resting on the wall, eyes closed, and his golden curls shining in the low-watt institutional lighting. He was beautiful even with the blood on his temple crusting and a black-eye forming. 

They’d been at a rally, which had turned violent – surprise, surprise – and the six of them (Bahorel, Courfeyrac, Jehan, Marius, Grantaire and Enjolras) hadn’t gotten away quickly enough, hence the trip to Holding. Jehan was milling around the bars, looking out and muttering to himself under his breath, Courfeyrac was laid on the second bench, trying to sleep, Bahorel was wincing as Marius tried to look at a nasty cut on his arm. 

“No need to brag about it, Enjy.” Courfeyrac said from where he was sprawled. 

“I’m not bragging.” Enjolras murmured, eyes still closed. Hs long lashes cast shadows on his cheek bones, he looked almost relaxed if not for the clenched jaw and tiny crinkle between his eyebrows.

“It sounded like a brag.” Jehan said, turning to face them all. Jehan was the only one that seemed not to be injured, though his grey eyes were tired and full of worry as he gazed at them, there was a slight hunch to the way he stood and his face looked a lot older in that moment. 

“Bahorel, haven’t you been here more?” Enjolras asked, opening his eyes to look at the law student in question. 

“I think we’re here about the same amount of times actually.” Bahorel answered, moving so he could see them from over Marius’ head, as the freckled student tried to access his wounds. 

“Isn’t that how you too met?” Courfeyrac asked, now with his eyes open and propping himself up on an elbow so he could look at them all. 

“Yeah.” Bahorel grinned, “I wanted to know the results of The Bake-Off and Enjolras had seen it and I didn’t stop pestering till he told me and then we got comparing… either Crumble or Crème Brule recipes, I forget.” 

“I thought it was cookie recipes.” Enjolras frowned.

“No, that was the second time.” Bahorel rolled his eyes, “Because the third time was trifle. Those were some fun times.”

“They were.” Enjolras smiled. He closed his eyes again and no one made any move to speak again, they were all just happy to sit and brood. 

“I want ‘Ferre!” Courfeyrac drawled, “I hope he’s okay.” 

They were all well aware of the drama-students infatuation with Combeferre, and they also knew of the med student’s feelings for Courf’, though neither were willing to admit them to the other because they didn’t want to ruin their friendship and so they were both firmly stuck in the ‘friendzone’. 

“He’ll get us out Courf, he always does.” Enjolras sighed. 

“I’m boooorrrrreeeedddd.” Corufeyrac whined. 

“You’re just like a child.” Jehan tutted, but he was smiling with fondness as he watched Courfeyrac pout at him and mock hurt.

“Pop.” Courfeyrac replied, tapping on the bench to a rhythm only he seemed to know. 

Jehan shook his head, but laugh and joined in, tapping on the bars of the cell to the same beat, “Six.” 

“Squish.” Bahorel added, slapping the ground to add to the impromptu music. Enjolras groaned recognising the song from when he’d been forced to watch it with Éponine.

“Uh-uh.” Marius joined in and Enjolras rolled his eyes, beside him Grantaire was trying not to laugh as the artist nudged Enjolras in the ribs.

“No.” Enjolras simply stated. 

“Gods, would it kill you to let go and have fun a little?” Grantaire asked. 

“Yes.” Enjolras replied in a monosyllabic tone. 

The others chuckled at Enjolras’ blunt answer but Grantaire just looked at him, clearly unimpressed. He sighed. “You literally have the easiest part! Marius has to do his in Hungarian. And let’s skip a few of this bit because it does go on.” 

Enjolras looked at Grantaire for a long time, studying the artist’s profile. He liked Grantaire’s crooked nose, broken from bar fights and riots, he liked the thick black curls on his head and his eyes which seemed to change colour. Enjolras stared long enough to be considered creepy, long enough for Grantaire to become uncomfortable and long enough for the others to wonder if they were about to start fighting or making out. 

Enjolras spoke, “Cicero.” 

“Lipschitz.” Grantaire grinned at him, his dimples showing and Enjolras just rolled his eyes. 

“Pop!” Courfeyrac started, quicker than before. Their music picking up pace as they sang quicker. 

“Six!”

“Squish!” 

“Uh-uh!” 

“Cicero.” 

“Lipschitz!” 

“Pop!” They sped up even more. 

“Six!”

“Squish!” 

“Uh-uh!” 

“Cicero.” 

“Lipschitz!” 

“He had it coming!” Jehan, Marius and Grantaire sang

“He had it coming!” Courfeyrac, Bahorel and Enjolras echoed – only Enjolras sang with a distinct lack of effort. 

“He only had himself to blame.” They all sang. 

Courfeyrac, Bahorel and Enjolras carried on, “If you had been there!

“If you had seen it!” Grantaire, Jehan and Marius chimed. 

Then Enjolras sang by himself, his voice clear and strong, “I betcha you would have done the same!”

“Pop!”

“Six!” 

“Squish!” 

“Uh-uh!”

“Cicero.” 

“Lipchitz!” 

“You know how people have these little habits that get you down.” Courfeyrac got up slowly as he spoke, stretching his arms and legs slowly, acting annoyed and irritated. 

“Would you like a dance partner?” Grantaire whispered and at Courfeyrac’s nod he got up as the drama student started to dance with him.

“Like Bernie. Bernie liked to chew gum. No. not chew… Pop!” Courfeyrac sang. Enjolras felt himself frown as Courfeyrac sidled around the artist and Grantaire pulled the thinner man to him, leaning them sideways as Courfeyrac lifted his legs off the floor. “So I came home one day and I’m really irritated, looking for a little bit of sympathy and there’s Bernie, laying on the couch, drinking a beer and chewing. No, not chewing. Popping! So I said to him ‘you pop that gum one more time…’.” 

Courfeyrac spun away from Grantaire then as he sighed, sounding exasperated, “And he did. So, I took the shotgun off the wall and I fired two warning shots…” Here he aimed at Grantaire’s head, “into his head.” He mimed shooting the artist and the brunette fell to the floor. 

“He had it coming, he had it coming, he only had himself to blame! If you’d have been there, if you’d have heard it! I betcha you would have done the same!” They all sang.

“I met Ezekiel Young from Salt Lake City about… two years ago.” Jehan spoke, leaning on the bars, entwining his arms with the metal. “He told me he was single and we hit it off right away, so, we started living together – he’d go to work, he’d come home, I’d fix him a drink, we’d have dinner. And, then I found out.” 

Jehan pulled on the bars, falling forward but his hold on the metal keeping him from landing on the floor, “Single he told me, single my ass! Not only was he married… oh, no, he had six wives! One of those Mormons you know.” Jehan shrugged, he then sashayed over to Courfeyrac and ran a hand across his shoulders, “So that night, when he came home from work, I fixed him his drink as usual. You know some guys just can’t hold their arsenic!” and with that he pushed Courfeyrac down. 

“Hah! He had it coming!” Jehan, Grantaire, Bahorel and Courfeyrac sang, “He had it coming, he took a flower in it’s prime and then he used it and he abused it! It was a murder, but not a crime!” 

Enjolras and Marius then sang, “Pop, six, squish, uh-uh, Cicero, Lipschitz.” 

“Now, I’m standing in the kitchen, carving up the chicken for dinner,” Bahorel sang, getting up from the floor with a herculean effort considering all his cuts and bruises, easily faring the worst out of them. At this point, Courfeyrac and Jehan had started doing a tango in the background. “Minding my own business when in storms my husband, Wilbur, in a jealous rage. ‘You been screwing the milkman’ he says. He was crazy and he kept screaming ‘You’ve been screwing the milkman!” 

Bahorel then grinned wickedly as he paused, “And then he ran into my knife. He ran into my knife ten times.” 

They all sang the chorus, “If you had been there, if you had seen it, I betcha you would have done the same.” 

“Mit keresek, йn itt?” Bahorel offered his hand to Marius and the freckled linguistics student took it, their dance was more gentle than the tango behind them. Probably so Marius could focus on his part as the other five cooed quietly, “Azt mondjбk,hogy a hнres lakem lefogta a fйrjemet йn meg lecsaptam a fejйt. De nem igaz, йn бrtatlan vagyok. Nem tudom miйrt mondja Uncle Sam, hogy йn tettem. Probбltam a rendхrsйgen megmagyarбzni de nem йrtettйk meg...”

Enjolras spoke, “Yeah, but did you do it?”

“Uh-uh!” Marius answered, “Not guilty!”

Now Enjolras got up, Courfeyrac and Jehan broke apart from their pair and went to either side of him. “My sister, Veronica and I had this double act.” 

Grantaire smiled as Enjolras walked around the two, admiring his voice - which was surprisingly pleasant to hear, no one really thinking Enjolras could do anything but make people cry and run a revolution – his singing proved this wrong. 

“And my husband Charlie travelled around with us. For the last number in our act we did twenty acrobatic tricks in a row, one, two, three, four, five, splits, spread eagles, back flips, flip flops one right after the other.” Enjolras circled Courfeyrac and Jehan all the time, hands trailing over their torsos, he paused in the middle of them and pulled them closer, “Well, this one night we were in the hotel Cicero, the three of us, boozing and having a few laughs, but then we run out of ice. So, I go out to get some. I come back. Open the door, and there’s Veronica and Charlie doing number seventeen: the spread eagle.” At this Enjolras pushed Courfeyrac to Jehan and they started their tango, Bahorel and Marius dancing on Enjolras’ other side. He moved forward to stand in front of Grantaire and held a hand out to the cynic. 

“Well, I was in such a state of shock I completely blacked out, I can’t remember a thing. It wasn’t until later when I was washing their blood off my hands I even knew they were dead.” Enjolras said this part, Grantaire took his hand and they started into a tango as Enjolras sang with power in his voice, “They had it coming.” 

“They had it coming.” The other five echoed. 

“They had it coming all along.” They all sang.

“I didn’t do it.” Enjolras sang. 

“He didn’t do it.” The others echoed then Enjolras joined in for the last line, “But if I’d done it, how could you tell me that I was wrong?” 

“They had it coming.” The song repeated in the same way so Enjolras was still singing on his own. 

“They had it coming.” The other five echoed. 

“They had it coming.” 

“They had it coming.”

“They had it coming.” 

“They took a flower in its prime.” The other crooned. 

“All along.” Enjolras carried on.

“In its prime.”

“I didn’t do it.” 

“And then they used it.” 

“But if I’d done it.” 

“And they abused it!”

“How could you tell me,” 

“It was murder,”

“That I was wrong?”

“But not a crime!”

“I love Alvin Lipschitz more than I can possibly say.” Now Grantaire slowed their dance, he twirled Enjolras out and then pulled him in, the others copied their dance around them, “He was a real artistic guy, sensitive… a painter. But, he was always trying to find himself.” Grantaire dipped Enjolras, “He’d go out every night looking for himself and on the way he found Ruth, Gladys, Rosemary and Irving. I guess you can say we broke up because of ‘artistic differences’: he saw himself as alive and I saw him dead!”

They all sang as the beat quickened and they danced quicker, “The dirty bum, bum, bum, bum, bum. The dirty bum, bum, bum, bum, bum!”

“They had it coming.” Courfeyrac, Bahorel and Grantaire sang. 

“They had it coming.” Enjolras, Jehan and Marius repeated. 

“They had it coming!”

“They had it coming!”

“They had it coming all along.” They all sang. “’Cause they used us and they abused us! How could you tell us that we were wrong? He only had himself to blame, if you’d have been there, if you’d have seen it! I betcha you would have done the same!” 

“You pop that gun one more time!” Courfeyrac snarled as the pairs broke and they moved back to their starting spaces. 

“Single my ass.” Jehan grumbled.

“Ten times.” Bahorel muttered as he sat against the wall again. 

“Miert csukott Uncle Same bortonbe.” Marius sighed. 

“Number seventeen: the spread eagle.” Enjolras scoffed. 

“Artistic differences.” Grantaire laughed. 

“Pop.”

“Six.” 

“Squish.”

“Uh-uh.” 

“Cicero.” 

“Lipchitz.” 

A slow clapped followed the end of their singing. They all turned to see Combeferre, Musichetta and a policewomen watching them, the former looked exhausted and the latter two looked amused as they grinned at the others and Musichetta fiddled with her phone. The cell door was wide open.

“Now if you’re done with your dramatics, it’s been a long day and I’d like to go hom.” Combeferre said with a sigh as he turned to go. 

“He’s just tired.” Musichetta rolled her eyes, as she put the phone in her hands into the pocket in her leather jacket. “Besides, I have to show the others this video, it’s too funny.” 

“How much do we have to pay you to delete it?” Grantaire asked. 

Musichetta grinned as they all filed out of the cell, “Oh honey, not even all the souls on earth could get me to delete this, it’s priceless.” 

They all groaned.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm sorry for the wait for this one - i've not really been in the writing mood, but here it is. 
> 
> This song is 'Cell Block Tango' from 'Chicago' - one of my favourite musicals.  
> So, for the casting we had:  
> Courfeyrac as Liz  
> Jehan as Annie  
> Bahorel as June  
> Marius as Hunyak  
> Enjolras as Velma  
> Grantaire as Mona
> 
> I'm sorry about the quality of the hungarian, i took it from the lyrics on metro lyrics. But please let me know if it's wrong and needs changing.  
> Okay, thank you!


End file.
